


Two Slow Dancers

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hannibal and Will saving each other is my fave, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Smut, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Set in Season 1.  A dinner party at Hannibal's house sounds like a recipe for disaster to Will, not only because it will require him to be social.  He also has a huge crush on the host that increases his nervousness...so it's a good thing Hannibal is more than happy to help him endure the evening's festivities.





	1. Chapter 1

Will stood in front of the mirror and regarded his suited reflection like it was the latest crime scene. He just couldn’t decide if he looked good and right for this evening’s occasion, or like a pathetic masquerader, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, appropriately sheepish.

“What do you think?” Will asked, turning around to face the dogs, all looking at him with excited anticipation, not caring in the least what their beloved owner wore. 

Winston tilted his head to one side and gave a short bark, and Will sighed.

“You’re right, I’ve been staring at myself so long that I’m starting to look weird to me. C’mon, everybody.” Will brought the dogs out on the porch and filled their bowls, letting the soothing sounds of their crunching and the serene sight of his backyard, that controlled wilderness, filter into his being and diffuse his anxiety.

He looked at his watch and saw it was almost time to go. The realization kickstarted his heart again, back into high gear where his ribs and skin felt under constant threat of being burst through, his insides forced into the world to scream all his secrets. He dreaded such embarrassment, yet longed for the release. 

Maybe he’d always known he was a ticking time bomb and someday he’d lose the ability to outrun the impending blast, hide the wildness and violence of his soul in this quaint, sturdy house and the hearts of his sweet, harmless, dependably affectionate and affectionately dependent dogs, the tranquility of the lake when he fished alone, the halls of the FBI academy and even his classroom, all places where he could pretend to be, if not normal, at least a morally upright, functioning, contributing member of society.

But not when he thought about Hannibal. Then he felt most purely himself, and there was nowhere to hide. 

Why else would Will go to all this trouble? Pacing the liquor store, deliberating between bottles of wine, trying to guess which his friend and co-worker, his kinda-sorta therapist would prefer. Then he’d gone home to fuss and fret over, of all things, _what he was wearing_. Perhaps it was the way Hannibal had slipped the invitation into his hand the night before, after their session, or the self-consciously hopeful glint in Dr. Lecter’s eyes when he’d assured Will it simply wouldn’t be the same without him. Perhaps it was the beat his heart skipped at the mere mention of Hannibal’s name outside his presence, the strange sense of belonging he felt during their interactions, or the interminable craving to know everything about his friend and see him more and more.

Will watched the dogs running in circles, playing together without a care in the world, but he couldn’t lose himself to the pleasant innocence of the scene. The hands on his watch were shifting delicately closer to the start of Hannibal’s dinner party, duetting with the ticking of the time bomb inside Will, and all he could do was lean his terrified heart into the promise of night, this night in particular, the beat of Hannibal’s heart and whether it could hear and match Will’s, or if the attraction, the maybe hideously awkward and unreciprocated, _definitely_ inappropriate crush would turn out to be mutual.

Why did it seem like that was all Will was living for lately, just that chance, that whisper of a chance that he wasn’t yet again settling his feckless love on an uninterested recipient? It wasn’t like Will considered himself relationship material; he was well-aware he was a great big mess of problematic urges which he dampened down in acerbic words and standoffish body language that told the world to keep their distance. He acted as if he was protecting himself from the annoyance of human interaction, when really he was protecting everyone else from the horrible associations stalking forts which would only stay intact for so long. He feared himself, but Hannibal knew that and liked him anyway. Why?

Once he’d arrived at the party, the line of expensive cars in Hannibal’s driveway made Will want to turn and run. The feeling only got worse when the door was opened by an impeccably uniformed staff member, letting him into the familiar space of his friend’s home now doused in the elegantly jubilant strains of a string quartet, filled with the hum of snobbishly polite conversation among Hannibal’s distinguished guests, replete with the scent of beguilingly savory cuisine and no sign of Hannibal himself anywhere.

“Will!” Jack crowed, approaching with Bella by his side, both of them holding small plates piled in rich delicacies, Hannibal’s prideful creations. 

Will’s heart sank in disappointment at not being greeted by Hannibal, but instead having to pretend he had some reasonable excuse for attending, such as wanting to socialize and enjoy an evening of fine food, drink, and music. 

“Jack, Bella, nice to see you,” Will said with his best disguise of cheerfulness, shaking their hands and managing not to drop the bottle of wine or his strained smile, although both were in serious danger of falling to the floor at any moment. 

His face felt like the wrong side of a Dali painting, and sometimes Will worried that when the facade of sanity fell away, he wouldn’t shatter on the floor; he would melt, indelibly staining the lives of anyone who got too close. It had been getting so much worse since he killed Hobbs; it was, for example, getting damn near impossible to block out the flashbacks of shooting the murderer, the flood of righteous power, the joy of saving Abigail. He wished he could go back and relive it over and over. How could anyone understand such selfish depravity? He hated the very same side of himself that held loudest court over his thoughts and dreams. 

“This is great, you need to get out more,” Jack enthused in that warmly booming, fatherly tone that somehow always left Will feeling criticized even when the words themselves were complementary.

Bella gave her husband a small smile of rebuke. “I’m sure he doesn’t enjoy being told what he should be doing during his leisure time, Jack. He gets enough of that from you at work. Will, you have got to try these carrot roulades, they are to die for! There’s radish in here, and goat cheese...what is this meat, honey?”

Jack popped one in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I think that’s pancetta. Oh, look, there’s Richard and Judy. Let’s go say hi. Will!” 

He clapped Will on the shoulder, clueless of Will’s lost expression as he and Bella crossed the room to chat with some other guests.

“Hi, Will,” Alana smiled charmingly, looking like a goddess in that one-shouldered purple evening gown, her shiny, dark hair tucked into a simple but chic chignon, and that same look of carefully reigned-in fascination in her blue eyes whenever she saw him. “I’m glad you came.”

“Thanks,” Will shrugged, looking all around for Hannibal, scanning the room as the very act of doing so caused a revelation to run through him, hot and cold as dry ice scraping the skin from his bones. 

All at once, he felt it, the difference between his feelings for Alana and Hannibal. 

“You look beautiful,” he added reductively. 

Yes, she was stunning, but it didn’t affect him the way it used to. Those feelings he’d always had for Alana, the dreamy way he used to look at her and admire her sweet-faced beauty, her kind heart and clever mind, they all represented a comparatively shallow infatuation. It wasn’t like the way he felt with Hannibal, as if the ground was crumbling into dust beneath his feet and there was nowhere to go but down into the earth’s molten core, but he’d burn there happily if the last thing he ever got to see was Hannibal’s big, mysterious brown eyes.

Love felt different than mere attraction, superficial longing for someone ultimately incompatible.

“Thank you,” Alana replied, warm but only to a point, cautious, holding herself back from Will's instability. She turned behind her to tap the shoulder of a middle-aged man Will didn’t recognize. “Robert, have you met Will Graham?”

The man turned with an interested smile that slightly waned at the sight of the flustered young man in a cheap-looking suit for whom Alana expressed such unaccountable interest. 

Alana blithely introduced Will to Robert and his wife, who both turned out to be famously brilliant surgeons, and for all the world Dr. Bloom looked as if she truly believed they should be delighted to meet each other because they were all smart and talented and wasn’t this a great party, and didn’t Hannibal know how to put on a hell of a show.

The small talk labored on like a malfunctioning train clanking crookedly over the wrong broken track, and in the course of it, Will considered exactly how rude it _would_ be to simply turn around and run all the way back home.

“So you’re not actually an FBI agent, then?” Robert’s wife Linda inquired, looking at Will as if his presence put a smudge on the otherwise flawless surface of the elegant evening. 

“Yes, how does that work?” Robert asked, “Don’t they have a rigorous screening process? I mean, they don’t just let anyone consult for them, right?”

_You’d be surprised._

Will swallowed the retort, but the effort required to do so meant he forgot the original question and stood there blankly staring at the others like a baited worm on a hook looking down at the waters where he would shortly perish.

Alana had seen someone else she knew, and with a careless “Oh! I’ll be right back,” just left him standing here with these awful people whose only interest in talking to him was to perform an impromptu interrogation since clearly he did not belong here and something should probably be done to make him directly aware of the fact.

“Well, are you an actual FBI agent or not?” Robert repeated, and Will was just starting to calculate the number of years of prison which would result from him wringing the man’s neck, while also thinking the run back home sounded damn refreshing at this point, when a strong, reassuring hand landed on his shoulder.

The smell of manly, spicy cologne wafted sexily over Will as Hannibal’s smooth voice announced, “Will is the most successful criminal profiler which it has ever been the honor of the FBI to employ. And really, Robert, Linda, given the number of malpractice suits you’ve each accumulated, I hardly think you are in any position to criticize others. Not my most special guest, certainly, and not in my home.”

Will blushed, his heart galloping out of control, his shoulder under Hannibal’s lingering touch spreading a hot, quivering heat through his whole body. 

_Most special guest? Me?_

Robert opted for pathetically feigned humor, laughing as he answered, “Come now, Dr. Lecter, we were only curious. If you vouch for Will here, I’m sure he’s excellent at what he does.”

Linda, however, had turned red with indignation. “I’m surprised at you, Hannibal, socializing with such dregs and then shaming us for wondering what this bizarre specimen of low class is even doing here.”

Hannibal gently squeezed Will’s shoulder, as if to somehow offset the deadly look on his face. 

“The better question is what you are doing here, Linda, but thankfully that is easy enough to remedy. Michael!”

One of the male staff immediately appeared before Hannibal, who nodded authoritatively, “Please escort Dr. Landry and Dr. Landry-Sinclair out of the house. Then find their coats and throw them out after their owners, all to land where they may.”

“Very good, sir,” Michael replied, and one look at the fellow’s hulking physique and take-no-prisoners expression was enough to send Robert and Linda in a beeline for the front door.

“Thank you for being patient whilst I disposed of the trash,” Hannibal resumed, finally letting go of Will’s shoulder and shifting to stand before him, a glorious sight of handsomeness in his tux.

“I...didn’t know it was a tux kind of a party,” Will said apologetically, still feeling like an idiot standing there in his department store suit with his bottle of way-too-recent cabernet. 

“Nonsense, you look perfect,” Hannibal insisted, smiling softly at the sight of Will, looking him over from head to toe as if the party had only now begun. “I am so very happy you could come.”


	2. Chapter 2

Will hadn’t realized it was possible for his whole heart to fit in his throat, but it definitely made talking difficult. To Jack and even Alana, Will’s presence had been a passing interest, but it meant so much more to Hannibal. If Will didn’t know better than to let silly dreams blossom in his heart, he would have thought it meant everything.

“I brought this, I know it’s not, um…up to par with the rest of your buffet.” Will lifted the bottle, trying to remember words and how they fit together to make sentences when Hannibal looked at him as if he had hung the moon by showing up, just being here.

“Excellent, we don’t have nearly enough red,” Hannibal answered, taking the bottle and nodding for Will to follow him. “Come with me.”

He brought Will into the kitchen, where he placed the bottle on the counter and said to one of the hired assistant chefs, “Please make sure this is opened and served with the second course.” 

Turning back to Will, he added, “You weren’t having a very good time, were you?”

“It’s not exactly my scene, if I even have one,” Will acknowledged. “It’s fine, I’m used to people having that reaction when they hear about what I do. I’m trusted with a great deal of responsibility, and they always expect this long list of equivalent accomplishments and qualifications…”

“There are plenty of field agents currently working for the Bureau with all of those credentials, who will never close half the number of cases you do. What you have is genius, Will, and that will always inspire envy.” 

Hannibal spoke with fluid nonchalance as he carefully examined the next course of food to be brought out to the guests, making sure the meat was sliced on the exact angle he’d requested, the cranberry sauce drizzled with exactly the right amount of fancifully feigned unconcern. Still, he looked over at Will after his statement, his throat bobbing at the fascination he found in those deep blue eyes.

“Not from you,” Will reasoned, flashing his first smile of the evening and melting Hannibal just that easily. 

“No,” Hannibal admitted, wiping his hands on his apron and then flicking it off, folding it thoughtfully and laying it on the counter before he rounded it to murmur only within Will’s earshot, “From me, you receive only the most heartfelt admiration.”

“Thank you.” Will gazed at him tremulously, sweat gathering on his brow and at the back of his neck, but he had to say this: “It’s mutual.”

Hannibal could not have looked happier if the editors of Bon Appetit had appeared at his door to do a special article on this party.

“I don’t believe you’ve ever seen the rest of the house, have you?” Hannibal raised his eyebrows, as if this was the most innocently rational question. “Only the sitting room, kitchen and dining room. Would you like to see more?”

“Uhhh,” Will said over the tumult of his heart and the arousal turning his blood to lava. He ran a hand through his hair, ruining the neat way he had combed it back, savoring the look of suspense on Hannibal’s face and fighting his own fear of getting close to someone he liked so much. “I’d love to.”

He followed his host upstairs, where his attention was immediately arrested by the bust of a Japanese feudal knight in armor sitting on a table in the hall. There were so many dark, layered mysteries about Hannibal, displayed in his fastidiously vivid, exotic decor, as if he wanted to splash every wall and surface with thought-provoking questions at the same time he dazzled the mind’s eye with aesthetic splendor. 

It occurred to Will that he could be happy asking Hannibal questions all day and night, just to hang on every answer. He was equally beguiled by the beauty of his friend’s meticulously crafted armor and the smoldering passions beneath, eager to find a way he could be allowed into a fully shared intimacy, equal honesty and knowledge of each other. 

Hannibal already knew almost everything about Will, right down to his most cringe-worthy secrets, and the disproportion sometimes left him intolerably hungry for balance. Oneness.

“Samurai...they worshipped ‘the way of the warrior’ above all else, but they were also devoted to Buddhist teachings. Does...that appeal to you? Righteous self-discipline…” Will ran his fingers over the shining surface of the statue. “Masking delicious chaos.”

“Aren’t you a fan as well?” Hannibal lingered very close beside Will, making goosebumps spread over his skin. 

Will bristled, disappointed that yet again Hannibal used his therapeutic speech pattern to dodge a personal question. As much as this annoyed him, the undeniable excitement of their proximity caused him to blurt his truth, even as he hated himself for again being the one to give a naked reply while Hannibal remained safety clothed in shadows. 

“More and more lately, the answer is yes. I surprise myself.” Will turned slightly to give Hannibal a look both achingly sincere and mildly accusatory. He didn’t want to voice his annoyance just now and ruin their closeness, but the frustration simmered insistently as ever.

How could he risk losing this tentative near-intimacy without knowing if he would ever have a chance to get even this close to Hannibal again?

“Associations blossom into new discoveries,” Hannibal noted with approval. “It’s what I’ve been trying to help you work on, Will, your ability to undertake journeys in uncharted territories. To let go of the fear you place on the idea of self-discovery, change, personal evolution. You are a microcosm of the same struggle felt by every living creature upon the earth: fight or flight, complacency or risk. Complacency trains us to accept boredom; risk opens up the chance of triumph, even grandeur.”

“Do you ever take _risks_, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal turned the doorknob of the next room and confronted Will’s petulance with a coyly deliberate smile.

“I’m taking one right now.”

The words blossomed again into more lascivious associations as Will followed Hannibal into a truly luscious bedroom with an enormous bed covered in a sumptuous duvet. 

All Will could think about was getting naked with Hannibal under those zillion-thread-count covers, and he was sure it must be showing on his face as he trailed his fingers over the wallpaper’s texture, feeling the grooves in the ribbed pattern.

“Your bedroom.”

“Yes,” Hannibal said brightly, giving Will the distinct feeling he knew how he was affecting his guest and liked it, too. More reflectively, with that same irresistible curiosity he always felt towards Will, he added, “Have you always disliked parties?”

In the low rose glow of the lamplight, Hannibal looked gently understanding, completely attentive to whatever Will might say or want, just beckoning him to open up. But Will was still afraid.

“I’ve always disliked being reminded that I’m a square peg.” Will ruffled his hair, making it even messier, not remotely immune to the way Hannibal’s eyes eagerly tracked the motion.

But it was too much, too much for him to take, all that intense scrutiny when he had no positive associations from past experience to go along with the feeling of being examined. Scrutiny was always a prelude to rejection, and in a confused attempt to reassemble his own armor, Will gave a harsh, joyless laugh. Maybe it was best that he sidestep disappointment, use his short-tempered tendency to mask his wounded heart.

“You knew I wouldn’t fit in with this crowd, that I’d stick out like a sore thumb! I mean I don’t have a damn thing to say to these people, but you asked me to come, made it seem actually _important_ to you that I be here, so here I am, but it is exactly the absurd catastrophe I should have predicted. You’re analyzing me again, Dr. Lecter, and I don’t particularly care to be a bug under your lens.”

“You’re uncomfortable with my interest in you?” Hannibal asked lightly, showing the very first trace of his own awkwardness which Will had yet divined. His brow was furrowed in slight disappointment at the idea. Of course, any sign of emotion he allowed to take visual residence in his face was merely a hint of the vast storm raging inside him.

There was no occupation for Hannibal’s hands; usually, when he said things to Will that carried vulnerable implications, he could cover up the exposure with a shuffle of papers on his desktop or a meaningless saunter among the stacks of his library, rearranging volumes that were already perfectly organized. As it was, he had nothing to do but slide his hands into the pockets of his dapper tuxedo trousers, keeping his eyes averted as he waited for Will’s reply.

Perhaps in such moments of self-consciousness Hannibal did not always observe the way Will’s eyes stayed locked on his beautiful hands, his fingers gripping and winding around other things when all Will wanted was to feel those hands holding him, pulling him apart, making him whole.

Thinking of it now, Will felt his blush deepening as he collapsed into nervous, self-defensive babble.

“Yes, no, I don’t know! Is it just because I’m such a _bizarre specimen_ that you can’t suspend analysis or separate it from friendship? Or is there something else going on here? No, forget I said that,” he rushed to blurt as Hannibal’s expression changed to surprised intrigue. “Forget it, okay, forget I was _here_, forget I was bizarre and forget the whole--”

His rant skidded to a halt as Hannibal crossed the room quickly, taking Will’s face in his hands and pressing a warm kiss to his mouth.

Wildfire licked up the inside of Will’s body, shivers of aroused excitement racking him, as he pulled back and stared at Hannibal in shock.

“No,” Hannibal said simply, firmly, inarguably, looking into Will’s face with now unmistakable signs of besotted devotion. “I don’t want to forget it. I only threw this dinner party as an excuse to invite you over.”

He ran his hand through Will’s hair and released a contented sigh, like the cat who finally got the cream. How long had he been wanting to do that? 

“I only came as an excuse to see you,” Will admitted, reaching up to clasp the back of Hannibal’s head, leaning up to kiss him again, tentatively, but with his lips parted, prompting Hannibal to slip his tongue into Will’s mouth, his hands greedily sliding beneath Will’s jacket, feeling down the sides of his torso and landing possessively on his ass.

Will had never been given such a kiss, so soft and wet, tender but erotic, _so_ erotic, he was all at once rock hard, gripping Hannibal’s head and kissing more deeply.

“Have you always wanted this?” Hannibal murmured against Will’s lips. 

Will intuited that a truthful answer would yield rewards, so he gave a little tug on Hannibal’s hair and pressed his body closer, his animal craving exposed like a nerve, lustful and demanding. “Yes. Did I do a good job of hiding it?”

The ghost of recent pining passed over his face as Hannibal answered, “Sometimes, yes. I worried I was alone. That was strange, because solitude never bothered me before.”

“And what have you been up to alone? When you wondered how I felt?” Will waited in breathless anticipation for the consequences of this teasing dare. Although his words were flirtatious, his shimmering eyes were wide with fascination, held under Hannibal’s thrall.

At first, he worried that he might have offended his friend with the question, pushed too hard past the limits of what Hannibal’s vulnerable side could allow, knocking on a locked door. Hannibal’s face held an inscrutable, careful thought process as he slid his fingers out from Will’s soft locks and removed his groping palm from his almost-lover’s ass.

Will looked in silent desperation back and forth from Hannibal’s stern, closed-off expression to the lines of his strong body accentuated by his perfectly fitted tux. Hannibal relished the tense expectation of the moment until his ability to hold back snapped, brittle as it had been to begin with. From that very first day in Jack’s office, he’d kept this flame low and protected, kept his heart safe from the myriad problems that would come with getting close to someone he wanted with this frightening intensity.

He wasn’t used to feeling afraid either.

“Turn around,” Hannibal ordered huskily, steering Will’s body and placing his hands on the wall. 

Allowing Will’s desire to build up in yet another bout of suspense, he walked to the bedside table, retrieving a small bottle of lubricant. He was domineering as he looked Will over, enjoying the sight of the submissive posture, his breath pooling hotly into his neck, his hand again planted on Will’s behind as he began to slowly massage. 

Will moaned ferally, his voice a moist, lost, rasping thing over which he had no control despite his distant awareness that there were about thirty guests downstairs. Palms pressing into the wall, destined to leave sweat streaks as certainly as the wallpaper would indent his skin, he slowly, firmly rocked his ass up into Hannibal’s caress. 

“Close your eyes,” Hannibal murmured, reaching around to undo Will’s trousers.

He lavished his insatiable mouth over Will’s neck, pushing his pants and underwear down. Will flinched at the understanding of his sudden nakedness, wondering as all lovers do if he would live up to his beloved friend’s fantasies of this. 

“Let go,” Hannibal beckoned, unfastening Will’s shirt with his free hand, speaking into his ear. 

Will gulped and nodded, his trousers down around his ankles, shirt open so that Hannibal could glide his big, beautiful hand over his bare chest and stomach, still thinking about how to answer Will’s original question.

“I thought about this, Will. Your exquisite body under my command, the noises you would make, the way every inch of you would look and taste. It’s kept me up nights, and I assure you that any satisfaction I tried to take out on myself could never come close to this reality.”

Those words, wrapped up in Hannibal’s smooth, velvety accent as he touched Will’s highly sensitive body only made the sounds escaping Will’s lips more quietly frantic, the vain attempt to smother his audible excitement hardening Hannibal’s erection in turn. And Will’s heartfelt, tender openness to the encounter struck at Hannibal’s heart like a sword cutting through stone, finding the center to be vitally soft, gushing blood and feeling.

“You’ve brought back to life a need in me I haven’t felt in many years, Will, a desire to care for another, to seek affection, an inclination which I thought I had killed. You are my necromancer.”

Hannibal nuzzled his nose into Will’s open collar and against his warm, fragrant neck. 

“Show me.”

“In due time,” Hannibal answered, closing his eyes too and breathing Will in, letting the aroma of piney aftershave, piquant desire and lightly acidic nervousness center him, making it possible to continue breathing. “No matter what else happens to us, I never want to forget this moment. The way you smell…” He bit Will’s neck, then licked it, treasuring Will as the sweet delicacy he was, irreplaceable and confoundingly special. “How you taste to me...it’s not how you would taste to anyone else. This is how you taste when I am making you my own.”

“Hannibal,” Will sighed, looking back at his friend with tear-glazed eyes. 

“Yes, baby, I know,” Hannibal nodded, sinking to his knees to cup Will’s bottom, then kiss it in slow circles, keeping it gently luxurious, a promise, before he began to bite and spank.

“Please,” Will begged, voice gravelly, his hands forming fists against the wall.

“Please, _what_?” Hannibal inquired politely, licking Will’s hole just once, then squeezing both of his pink ass cheeks.

Will knew what his friend wanted, of course, because they were that attuned to each other. And because, with complete embarrassment and overwhelming confusion, he’d thought of saying this to Hannibal all along.

He wet his lips as Hannibal waited, his breath hotly enticing against Will’s erogenous zone. 

“Daddy,” Will finally got out, his heart slamming his ribcage. 

But what if that wasn’t what Hannibal wanted, what if he had misread the situation? “I mean, I--”

Hannibal smacked his ass in rebuke. “Don’t hesitate, Will. Tell me. Say it again.”

“Daddy,” Will sighed into the word this time, relaxing under Hannibal’s care like he always wanted to, as easy as sinking into a hot bath, a perfect envelopment.

“Much better,” Hannibal praised, circling Will’s asshole with his clever, teasing, skilled tongue before plunging in and out, so turned on by the gasps he drew from his friend that he went on and on, withdrawing his mouth only to slide a finger in, then two, twisting and twirling and thrusting as Will mewled, pressing his fists harder into the wall.

Hannibal couldn’t hold back from fully claiming Will’s perfect, heartbreakingly vulnerable beauty for another second, so he stood and whipped off his jacket, then undid and flung down his trousers, snaking an arm around Will’s waist and resting his hand on the gorgeously thundering beat of his heart. 

“Baby...what do you need from daddy?” Hannibal licked Will’s ear, enamored with the cute shape of it, then nipped the soft lobe. 

“Fuck me, daddy,” Will whispered, eyes closed, heart completely and happily chained to the hand which covered it.

Hannibal applied lubricant, tossed the bottle to the floor, then slicked his cock slowly between Will’s cheeks, teasing as he murmured, “Louder. What do you need?”

Will’s eyes popped open and he looked back at Hannibal with fervent abandon, letting the words burst sharp, elicit and dirty into the air, the way they both needed him to say it.

“Fuck me, daddy.”

Hannibal held Will more snugly around his torso and sank his rigid length gradually inside him, both of them now groaning as if they were alone in the house, drunk on the shamelessness of doing so, the door slightly ajar beside them, Will catching a ragged breath at the power of his lover’s penetration gliding deeper in his tight, hot body.

Letting out a coarse sigh, Hannibal gripped Will’s hips and fucked him hard for several thrusts, fighting the nearly insurmountable urge to let himself go on doing so until he came. Slowing down, he nearly withdrew, then thrust back in to the hilt and muttered in Will’s ear, his voice roughly undone but as cunning as usual: “Why aren’t you touching yourself?”

“I’ll come if I do that,” Will answered, reaching back to feel Hannibal’s supple ass, amazed by the sensation of being so thickly filled and delighted at his friend’s restraint, meeting it enthusiastically with his own. He wished he could stay right here in this moment forever, scarcely daring to hope the future could take him any further into happiness.

“What else, baby?” Hannibal inquired, beginning to thrust again with long, gradual strokes, perspiration dotting his brow, the restraint getting more and more impossible to prolong.

“I want you…_oh, God_, God!” Will gasped as Hannibal reached up to tweak his nipple and slightly increased the tempo of his movements inside him. “I want you to tell me when I’m _allowed_ to come.” 

His mouth went dry, eyes stinging with the emergence of fresh tears, nerves tingling as much from the euphoria of Hannibal fucking him as with the fear that came every time he confessed one more layer of his secret desires. 

“Tell me the whole truth,” Hannibal grunted.

“I _need_ you to...tell me when...I’m allowed to come,” Will’s voice ached around the words, his hand on Hannibal’s ass tightening, nails digging in.

“You need me in control?”

“Yes, daddy,” Will nodded, losing himself completely, writhing back to take Hannibal in deeper. 

“Such a good boy, Will,” Hannibal sighed, continuing to rut into his lover until he felt himself on the verge of exploding, months of pent-up desire building up and pushing him past his own habitual refusal to be so openly needy with anyone, ever.

“Now,” Hannibal snarled into Will’s ear as he came, gripping Will’s hips harder and slamming into him as they both groaned helplessly. He panted against Will’s ear, then bit his shoulder. “Come for me now, do as you’re told.”

Will complied as the words, combined with his lover’s thick shaft still firmly rocking in and out of him made shiver after shiver fall over his body, his fragile emotion at this union spilling from his lips in wanton gasps and moans. He stroked his cock, finding that the painfully intense arousal hurt so very good, mounting to a powerful orgasm. 

Hannibal slipped his thumb between Will’s lips to muffle the inevitable cries, and Will sucked, then bit his friend’s finger, wild with hunger for the taste and texture of hands he’d watched with sensuous torment for so long. After pulling out of Will, Hannibal fell to his knees and lapped the cum from Will’s throbbing cock, displaying a filthily gluttonous commitment to swallowing the remaining evidence of his lover’s pleasure, savoring the hot saltiness of Will’s sex.

With a devilishly indecent, deeply knowing smile, Hannibal rose and took Will’s hand, leading him to the bed where they collapsed together, limbs landing haphazardly, Will’s fingers falling to Hannibal’s shirtfront as he looked at him in wonderment.


	3. Chapter 3

“I could never have imagined this,” he admitted, tugging Hannibal’s tie until it came loose and he could flick it aside with a shyly playful grin. Slowly, he unbuttoned Hannibal’s shirt, noticing how doing this made his lover’s breath catch. 

“I just want to see you,” Will added throatily.

“Did you try to imagine it? Us, that is?” Hannibal asked, his eyes locked on Will’s awestruck expression as the younger man caressed his hairy chest, his sculpted arms, then his stomach, where the tiniest softness spoke of his tremendous love for fine food and wine, so subtly, cutely complimenting his otherwise Greek God-like physique that Will’s adoration deepened when he hadn’t been aware that was even possible, as far as he’d already fallen. 

Will’s palms, lightly calloused from fishing and holding a gun, coasted over Hannibal’s body until his lips, surrounded by the gentle roughness of stubble, followed, the act contributing to their unabated mutual delirium.

“Many times,” Will smiled between kisses, leaving off at his lower abdomen, “but it was never quite like this.” 

He rested his cheek on Hannibal’s chest as the other man hugged him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. When he spoke again, Dr. Lecter’s tone was softly provocative.

“So, a daddy kink, Will? I think that gives us one more issue to discuss during our sessions. As you know, I do like to help my patients work through their issues very, very thoroughly, and to tell you a not-so-well-guarded secret, you are my favorite patient. That means I shall have to be ever so attentive. I may have to resort to unconventional methods.”

“Promise?” Will asked, reaching up to trace Hannibal’s lips, then smooth his touch over his jaw and down his neck.

“Yes. And I always keep my promises.” He was so damn haughty, Will could just about breathe, and he admitted to himself that the man’s often insufferable ego was also a huge turn-on.

Upon further reflection, Will added, “You _are_ my daddy kink...you’re a living, breathing embodiment of some...impossible ideal of a man I never thought I’d actually meet.”

“Do you think I am a product of your imagination, Will?” Hannibal quirked a brow.

“No,” he chuckled, brushing Hannibal’s hair back from his forehead. “I may have an overactive imagination, but even I couldn’t manifest such an overwhelmingly exquisite design.”

“Nor could I, Will,” Hannibal murmured tenderly, realizing how outstanding it felt to be able to stare at his friend as long as he wanted, taking in every breathtaking detail of his swoon-inducingly handsome face, his sweet vulnerability, brilliant mind, endlessly arousing voice, and a body that could, and had, caused him innumerable depraved fantasies. “Nor could I.”

“I guess we’ll have to keep this a secret,” Will ventured. “It’s rather unprofessional of us, after all, sleeping together when we’re co-workers and I’m unofficially in your care.”

“It’s extremely unprofessional. Whatever would Jack say? And Alana? Quite frankly, Will, how dare we?” Hannibal’s seductive tone earned him a hard, deep kiss from Will.

“I’ve got a feeling you tend to do as you please, consequences be damned...daddy.” 

“Say it again,” Hannibal demanded roughly, rolling Will over onto his back and looming above him with a commanding glint in his eyes, his hair falling prettily across his brow.

By the time Hannibal was done, for now, with making Will repeat himself, they had been alone in his room for well over an hour.

“I suppose we had better go back out there and make an appearance. An absentee host is guilty of bad manners,” Hannibal reflected, gathering his clothes back up as Will watched him with regret. “Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, Will. I’m going to show you a good time out there, and then I’m taking you back in here to finish off the evening with appropriately private festivities. Trust me?”

“Okay,” Will laughed begrudgingly, starting to shrug his clothes back on. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you that my social skills are abysmal at best.”

Hannibal finished redoing his tie in the mirror and gave Will a sly look. “Stick with me. Trust me when I tell you that those deplorable ingrates with whom you conversed earlier were the exception, not the rule, of my guest list. And don’t worry...they won’t be attending any of my future gatherings.”

His eyes twinkled, his tiny smirk a self-satisfied prelude to mischief. He could barely wait to get his hands on Dr. Landy and Dr. Landy-Sinclair so that they would better understand the concept of manners and how he felt about anyone who dared to insult his darling Will. It would be the last lesson they ever learned, but he still considered it a gift for him to bestow this essential wisdom.

Will stood beside him, buttoning up his shirt, and cast his friend a dubious look. “I think the way I feel about small talk is perhaps best compared to the way you would feel about a trip to McDonald’s.”

Hannibal laughed, but when he spoke again, his eyes were serious, full of deeper meaning instilled to the words. He took Will’s hand in his and stroked his thumb over the clammy, nervous skin he found there, the grip which though anxious was as trusting as he could have hoped.

“Will, I won’t ever leave you alone at a party again. I promise.”

They dropped each other’s hands before the guests came into view, but exchanged naughty smiles, already enjoying their secret, their limbs slightly heavy and blood still rushing with the recentness of their raunchy delight. 

Hannibal stopped to pay respects to each of his guests as they enjoyed their dessert, and he kept his word, never once failing to weave Will’s presence into the conversation with effortless skill, doing this until Will felt his habitual wall against society starting to fall down. In fact, he even made a few impressive observations and cracked some half-way decent jokes, earning compliments and the right kind of laughter from the other guests. 

He was safe here with Hannibal, safe even from his own anxiety. Hannibal knew just how to make it better, and somehow Will always seemed to know how to do the same for him. He was smiling, thinking how this rare instinct must have been what sparked their attraction, when Hannibal took the glass of cabernet from his hand and sipped it with a smugly suggestive glance at Will.

“Not bad. Allow me to return the favor.” Hannibal plucked off a piece from the chocolate fudge layer cake on his plate and poised it at Will’s lips.

So typical, how Hannibal allowed himself to take liberties, such as touching the cake with his bare hands rather than a fork, which he would find highly offensive on the part of any other guest but Will.

“Don’t you think this is rather obvious of us? Jack and Alana and...everyone are all in the room...any of them could be watching.” Will licked his lips, playing with Hannibal.

“That’s the fun of it. Now open up.”

Will took the cake into his mouth, sneakily managing to lick Hannibal’s fingers without being too overt. But even as he started to get hard again, he tasted the cake and let out a soft moan. There were layers of dark chocolate, milk chocolate, and raspberry creme exploding with rich but fluffy perfection across his palate. 

“Oh, my God. That’s the best thing I ever tasted.”

“Good,” Hannibal approved proudly. “I made it for you. Usually I opt for more complicated and exotic dessert fare, but I remembered you saying that chocolate cake is your favorite.”

He handed back the glass of wine, and Will sipped it, enjoying the way the taste complimented that of the cake. “Wine and chocolate, name a better combination.”

“You and me,” Hannibal smiled. “You were prompting me to say that.”

“Am I that shameless?” Will asked, raising his eyebrows and giving Hannibal that adorably sexy smirk that guaranteed consequences later on.

“Oh, here come Jack, Bella, and Alana,” Hannibal remarked lightly, as if he wasn’t picturing all the ways he wanted to make Will fall apart for him, soon, very soon, not nearly soon enough.

Before the others joined them, Will still had time to say quietly, “I love the cake.” He laid his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder and added into his ear, “Thank you, daddy.”

Will had the immense and unique satisfaction of watching a slight, but unmistakable blush spreading over Hannibal’s cheeks. Clearing his throat, Hannibal said as smoothly as he could to his guests, “Don’t tell me you are leaving already.”

“I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” Jack explained, shaking his host’s hand. “My friend, thank you as always for an exquisite meal and great company.”

“It was absolutely divine,” Bella agreed, intrigued by the chemistry between Hannibal and Will which seemed to elude Jack and Alana’s perception. “Will, you look like you’re having…_fun_.” 

“I guess I am,” Will allowed, finishing his wine. “Wonders never cease.”

Alana looked anxious as she said, “Will, I’m so sorry about the Landrys, I only knew them a little and I had no idea they were such jerks. Someone told me what happened, and I feel awful that I left you alone with them.”

“You know what, Alana, I’m actually kind of glad you did,” Will realized, understanding that the confrontation with those snobs had been turned into a pleasant memory because of what happened right afterwards. “Don’t worry about it at all.”

“You may be glad, but I don’t think the Landrys will be,” Hannibal quipped, waiting for the others to give him slightly confused looks until he added with his usual adroit comic timing, “After all, they missed the dessert.”

After Jack, Bella, and Alana departed most of the other guests started to ebb away, but Hannibal’s polite farewells were distracted. There was something he wanted to do very much, and so he took Will’s hand and led him to the open area of gleaming hardwood which had served as a dancefloor for the gathering.

“Shall we dance? The musicians were hired to play until midnight,” Hannibal explained, loving the way Will only cast him one questioning, slightly bashful look before following his lead in the waltz. 

“I guess I can’t be surprised you’re a hell of a dancer.” Will reveled in his lover’s firmly guiding hand, his confident aptitude tempered by a genuine love of music and dance, of holding Will in this moment that beamed from his smile. “Is there anything you don’t do well?”

“Open up to people, let them see me, know me,” Hannibal confessed, a little surprised at the way Will’s question made such a perilous admission fall from his tongue. He usually never would have admitted, even under pain of death, how much it bothered him to let anyone see the real version of him, the one beneath the veneer which Bedelia had dubbed his “person suit.” 

“It’s not something I do...and that’s why your effect on me is sometimes overwhelming,” he finished, gulping past his own wave of anxiety. “I have the distinct feeling of wavering at a clifftop, in continual danger of pitching to my doom.”

“Fall,” Will invited, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s neck. His breath was warm, his words certain when he added, “I’ll catch you.”

Hannibal blinked back tears as his throat tightened. “You called me ideal, but I’m far from it, I have other secrets. You might not like them.”

“Shhh...it doesn’t matter now. There’s time. There’s so much time, Hannibal. Be with me, show me your world, take me into it, when you’re ready. You don’t have to be ideal to be _my_ ideal...I like you messed up...and that you only let me see it. For now, just sway with me. Come here.”

Will moved even closer until their bodies were pressed together, his head nestled into Hannibal’s shoulder, Hannibal’s hands slowly massaging over his back. They moved in gentle time with the soothingly romantic song, as if the musicians had intuited the appropriate mood and become the soundtrack to this waking dream.

Hannibal didn’t have to wonder how he could ever make Will understand about his more scandalous, bloody proclivities, because he had long sensed that they shared the inclination. It was only a matter of whether Will could bear the full brunt of self-understanding, or if the morality which had been ingrained in his mind from nurture would constrict his nature and drive them apart. He had to hope, in this moment, it would not be so. He had to hope there was a way. Most of all, he had to trust Will’s words and allow himself to rest in them, for now.

These thoughts, and the simple comfort of Will swaying in his arms, the way he could smell himself on his friend with the equal certainty that his own skin probably carried more than a slight hint of an aftershave with a ship on the bottle, all added up to a realization that he whispered, feeling his strong body going a little weak.

“I love you, Will.” 

It had been such a very quiet whisper, barely audible...part of him hoped Will hadn’t heard him. Part of him was still terrified by the stark, inescapable fact of that love.

“I know,” Will muttered contentedly, rubbing his cheek into Hannibal, smiling as if all the world, now upside down, was finally right. “I love you, too.”


End file.
